


Skittles Series: Purple

by MercyBraavos



Series: Skittles Series [2]
Category: Psych
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:10:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8257186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercyBraavos/pseuds/MercyBraavos
Summary: Fluff. A purple skittle. More fluff. Seriously, this is so fluffy.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PsychLassieFan4Ever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychLassieFan4Ever/gifts).



> Post-ep for “Lassie Did a Bad, Bad Thing.” Takes place in my Skittles universe; part 2 in the Skittles series.

Rating: M

Author: Mercy

Warnings: Slash, Established Relationship

Pairing: Shawn Spencer/Carlton Lassiter

Spoilers: Post-ep for “Lassie Did a Bad, Bad Thing.” Takes place in my Skittles universe; part 2 in the Skittles series.

Summary: Fluff. A purple skittle. More fluff. Seriously, this is so fluffy.

Beta read by & dedicated to my sister slasher, PsychLassieFan4Ever who pulled me back into the world of fan fiction after a fifteen-year hiatus.

“Skittles Series: Purple”

~~

“You called me ‘sweetheart’ tonight.”

Shawn, who has been working his way through the buttons on Lassie’s shirt, well, _his_ shirt, but the shirt Lassie is wearing, pauses and looks up. “Kojak called everybody ‘sweetheart’,” he shrugs. “Must’ve been channeling the spirit of Telly Savalas.” He tugs a bit on a stubborn button, eager to get Lassie’s focus back where it belongs. Before he started talking about ‘sweethearts’ Lassiter’s hands had been stroking under Shawn’s shirt, well on their way to happy-fun-time places. It’s only been a few weeks since that first night, but it hasn’t taken long for Shawn to decide that feeling Lassie’s hands on him was easily one of his favorite things. Like, Curt and Roland playing a private show in his living room type favorite.

Except, Lassie’s hands on him _happens_ … with a regularity that Shawn would find alarming if it wasn’t so fucking _good._

Lassiter smirks at him. “You didn’t make that Kojak connection until _after_ you called me ‘sweetheart’.” Tucking his fingers into Shawn’s belt loops he yanks him closer and whispers into his ear, “and we both know you weren’t _channeling_ anyone.”

OK, now _that_ wasn’t fair.

“You know,” Shawn complains, poking Lassiter’s arm harder than intended, “lording post-orgasmic confessions over your boyfr-“ Shawn doesn’t miss the way the other man’s eyes widen. Shit. Shit shit shit. “Um, over the head of the guy you’re sleeping with isn’t exactly a turn-on, Lass.” Shawn closes his eyes, willing Lassiter to ignore the slip and get on with things, but Lassiter never likes taking the easy way out.

Lassie takes Shawn’s wrists gently and traps them against his half-bared chest. He looks contemplative and determined and it is seriously freaking Shawn out. He threads his fingers through Lassie’s impressive sternum bush until he squeezes his wrists a bit, demanding Shawn’s attention.

“What are we doing here, Shawn?” he asks softly.

_FEELINGS TALK_ flashes like a neon sign in Shawn’s head. Nope. Nope nope nope.

“At the moment,” he deflects, “I’m trying to get Santa Barbara’s hottest detective stripped naked, but…” Shawn flutters his eyelashes in his best sex kitten impression. “Said, hot detective is being spectacularly unhelpful.”

Lassiter does chuckle at that and Shawn feels some of the tension in his body seep away. He tries to wiggle his hands free and continue with those damn buttons when Lassie steps away, still holding his wrists, and sits down on the edge of the bed. “C’mere,” he says, urging Shawn to step between his open legs.

Shawn steps in, feeling Lassiter’s warm thighs bracketing him and sighs gently before freeing his hands and looping his arms around the other man’s shoulders. He leans down to press their foreheads together. “I don’t know,” he admits softly.

Lassiter leans back to meet his eyes. “You don’t know what?”

“What we’re doing,” Shawn chuckles. “I mean, solving cases by day, having great sex by night, occasionally getting pistol whipped by dirty cops….” He feels Lassie tense under him and presses a kiss against his temple. “I’m not very good at thinking ahead, Lassie. You know that… and it’s only been three weeks-“

“I’m not trying to pressure you, Shawn,” Lassiter frowns. “I just… never know what you’re thinking.”

Shawn looks down in time to see Lassie look away, discomfort etched all over his face. Shawn wants to make that look go away. He wants Lassie to smile; that genuine smile that lights up his eyes. He wants to kiss the crinkles around those beautiful blue eyes and hear those soft, needy sounds Lassie makes when he’s turned on. He wants Lassie to be happy… and he thinks maybe Lassie needs to know that.

“I want you to be happy,” he says simply.

Lassiter blinks back up at him. “What?”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” he explains, meeting Lassiter’s eyes with a soft smile and it’s easier – admitting these feelings – than he thought it would be. “I want you to be happy.”

Lassie’s still blinking at him, uncomprehending. Shawn shifts his feet a little and licks his suddenly dry lips. Lassiter is unreadable right now and Shawn feels out of his depth; a feeling that is as unpleasant as it is unfamiliar. He’s contemplating escape, but that’s complicated by the fact that they’re at _his_ fucking place, when the room tilts sideways and he finds himself on his back on the bed with Lassie looming over him.

And Lassie is smiling. A warm, rich, genuine smile that makes Shawn feel breathless and exhilarated. That smile elicits a gentle squeeze around Shawn’s heart and he leans up to kiss those lips, tasting the expression and committing it to memory.

A provocative moan builds low in Lassie’s throat and the sound goes straight to Shawn’s dick. In an instant he is diamond-hard and straining against his jeans. Dimly he understands that it’s different with Lassie. Shawn’s no blushing virgin – he’s been around, literally and figuratively. He spent his early twenties fucking his way around the globe, but this… this is new.

He wasn’t drawn to Lassiter immediately. In fact, the closed-minded, by-the-book (minus the whole screwing a co-worker thing) detective simultaneously amused and irritated him. Beating Lassiter to solving cases was fun while Shawn’s inability to dupe the man was frustrating.

But that night at Tom Blair’s, hearing Lassiter’s drunken, grudging praise coupled alongside the man’s glaring loneliness and feelings of inadequacy changed things for Shawn. He didn’t pity Lassie, he respected him too much for that, but something in those resigned confessions tugged at Shawn’s heart, throwing him into unfamiliar waters. He’d quietly led Lassiter to solving the astronomer’s murder as much for himself as for Lassie.

Lassiter didn’t share Shawn’s attraction – or so Shawn thought – so keeping it to himself was relatively easy. Sure, he flirted and teased like a schoolgirl with a crush, but he did that with everyone. And, OK maybe he directed his “spirited” groping more toward Lassiter than anyone else, but it’s strange what people will overlook once they’ve accepted eccentricity.

But now… but _now_ …

Now, Lassie wants him back and the knowledge of that – the evidence of that – turns Shawn into a quivering mess of desire when they’re together. It’s fucking Christmas and his birthday and those dreams where his mom never left and catching a killer and pineapple smoothies on a hot day all fucking rolled together.

So, yeah, he understands that it’s different.

He just doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do about it.

“Shawn?”

Lassie is looking down at him, a worried expression knotting his brows together and fuck if that doesn’t make Shawn’s heart go all squeezy again.

“Why is it like this?” Shawn blurts out and thank fuck that Lassie doesn’t make him explain the question. Instead, the normally unflappable detective _blushes_ down at him.

“I wondered that myself the first night I came to you.” Lassiter’s voice is gravelly and low and he lowers himself down as he speaks, shifting a leg between Shawn’s thighs and pressing _just_ right against him. “I pride myself on staying in control,” he whispers ruefully.

Shawn has to chuckle at that, albeit breathlessly because the friction of Lassie’s leg against him is driving him fucking crazy. “I may… have noticed that… on – _oh fuck –_ more than one occasion,” he manages to say.

Lassiter kisses him softly, tongue swiping across his bottom lip, before moving to nip at that spot below Shawn’s left ear that Lassie knows damn well makes Shawn shiver with pleasure. “I don’t feel all that controlled around you,” he whispers, breath hot against Shawn’s skin, “I haven’t for a long time.”

“How long?”

Lassiter doesn’t answer him, not with words, but he raises his head and meets Shawn’s eyes and the naked want in them forces a breathy moan past Shawn’s lips.

There’s something else in Lassie’s eyes. His pupils are blown with arousal, his irises are thin circles of cobalt, but there’s more there than just desire. There’s affection and longing and-

Oh.

_Oh…_

“Fuck… Lassie… oh, fuck…” and there’s nothing else that Shawn can say right now because Lassie’s looking down at him like he fucking _loves_ him and that’s just not something Shawn is equipped to process. Instead, he reaches between them and pulls Lassiter’s shirt off and the last several buttons go flying.

Lassiter takes the hint and pulls away long enough to strip the rest of his clothes off while Shawn wiggles out of his own, pausing only to pull a slightly lumpy purple Skittle out of his pocket and drop it in his pineapple dish where it slides down and bumps a green one.

Shawn watches Lassiter’s eyes track the candy curiously before he shakes his head in amusement and turns his attention to digging supplies out of the nightstand. Shawn’s about to shimmy up the bed into a better position when a warm hand on his leg pulls his attention back up.

Lassie is holding his hand out, offering the condom and lube to him silently.

What the _fuck_?

“Lass…?” Shawn questions, but Lassiter is already moving on the bed, lying back and letting his knees fall apart.

“I trust you,” Lassiter says – like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Shawn’s hands are shaking as he sets the packets aside for a moment and crawls up his lover’s body and presses them together, bodies joined from toes to lips. He licks desperately into Lassie’s mouth, moaning when he kisses him back just as fervently, arms wrapping around him and holding him close.

After a while, Shawn pulls back and grins down at the wrecked look on Lassiter’s face before he slides his way down, pausing to lick and suck Lassie’s nipples, nuzzling the wiry curls on his chest until his mouth hovers over the detectives straining, dripping erection.

“Shawn…” Lassiter pleads, rolling his hips toward Shawn’s lips and Shawn is in absolutely no condition to deny him anything. He dips down, taking the head of Lassiter’s cock into his mouth and sucks it gently, running his tongue along the sensitive underside.

Lassie breathes his name again and when Shawn looks up through his lashes Lassiter is gazing at him with something close to reverence. The intensity of that look makes Shawn whimper around Lassiter’s dick and the vibrations make him gasp and arch off the bed.

Blindly, Shawn reaches for the lube and lets Lassiter slip out of his mouth while he slicks his fingers. Leaning back down, he licks long, slow stripes around Lassie’s cock to distract him from the invasion of a single, lubricated finger. He works it in gently, feeling the tense muscles relax and adjust. He adds a second finger and sucks Lassiter’s erection back into his mouth before adding a third, all the while searching for that spot-

“Shawn!”

Theeeere it is.

Shawn grins around the cock in his mouth and sucks harder, fucking Lassiter hard with his fingers until he feels hands wind into his hair and tug gently. He looks up and arches an eyebrow.

“I’m ready,” Lassiter says quietly, definitively.

Which is all well and good – fucking fantastic actually because Shawn needs to be inside him like _yesterday._

But he pauses, suddenly unsure. “Um… how do you want to do this?”

Lassiter smiles at him, rolling his shoulders in a casual shrug. “I trust you,” he repeats.

Shawn nods at him. He’s going to _earn_ that trust. “Turn over,” he whispers and gasps a little when Lassie obeys him, moving to his knees and resting his head on folded arms. Shawn is trembling now but rolls the condom on, slicks his erection and grabs Lassie’s hips, holding him still while Shawn slips carefully inside.

“Ooooh, Lassie,” Shawn breathes, “that’s – you feel – fuck, so fucking good.”

Lassie’s answering moan almost finishes him on the spot. “So do you… Shawn, move… _please_.”

_Fuck_ yes.

Draping himself across Lassiter’s back Shawn does just that, moving in deep, steady thrusts until Lassie lifts himself up on his hands to leverage himself back against Shawn’s strokes. “That’s it, Lass – just like that. Stay with me… stay with me…”

They rock together, all heavy breathing and gasps, sweaty skin sliding between them and when Shawn reaches down to grasp Lassiter’s dripping cock he shouts Shawn’s name and comes hard, drenching the bedsheets below them.

It’s the hottest fucking thing Shawn’s ever seen and then he’s coming, mouth against the back of Lassiter’s neck leaving hot, wet kisses against the flushed skin. He manages to collapse sideways, pulling his lover with him until they’re both flat on the bed, arms tangled together.

“Fuck,” Shawn pants out breathlessly. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK.”

“I think we have that covered.” Lassie mumbles and Shawn can’t help but laugh.

“Fuck yeah, we do. That was… fuck, Lassie… I mean, Christ.” This time it’s Lassiter’s turn to chuckle.

As they come down from their high, Shawn is uncomfortably aware of the cooling stickiness covering them both, so he gets up, stumbling into the bathroom, discarding the condom and soaking a washcloth with warm water. When he comes back, Lassiter has rolled to the middle of the bed, away from the conspicuous wet spot. He cleans them both gently, keenly aware of Lassiter’s drowsy eyes watching him.

Tossing the cloth toward the bathroom, Shawn flicks off the light, climbs back into bed and rolls onto his side before glancing over his shoulder and arching an inviting eyebrow in Lassie’s direction. Taking the hint, Lassiter spoons up behind him and wraps a tentative arm around Shawn’s chest, humming contentedly when Shawn laces their fingers together.

And… he thinks he’s ready to answer Lassiter’s question.

“Lass?”

“Hmm?”

“What we’re doing… um.” _Fucking breathe, Shawn._ “Dating? If… if that’s OK?”

Lassie’s hold on him tightens and Shawn can feel lips curved into a smile before a kiss drops onto his shoulder.

“OK,” Lassiter responds. “Now go to sleep.”

And in the dark, they both smile.

_OK._

\---------------------


End file.
